


eros

by deathlytireddan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Angst, M/M, mysteriously sticky diners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlytireddan/pseuds/deathlytireddan
Summary: "What are you, a drug dealer?"Dan closed his eyes. "Not exactly that, no.""Then what?" Phil watched him suspiciously. "An escaped convict?"orIn which Dan is Persephone, a god turned mortal and wifi lover, and Phil is a confused, lonely human who really wants a date. (And was not born in 1887, thank you very much!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: None I think. Dan's usual swearing.

Phil had had a relatively boring day in the office, editing together bits and pieces and figuring out what angles to use with the other editors. He'd stayed late, as usual, having nothing better to do, and gone home to an empty fridge. Sighing, he'd re-bundled himself for the frigid October air and walked down the street to a crappy twenty-four hour diner.

 

They had a good arrangement. Phil pretended he didn't actually eat the horrible food, and the diner pretended it didn't recognize him three times a week.

Like always, Phil debated just walking another block to find something at least half-decent, and like always he stepped under the flickering neon. Inside it smelled like stale coffee and burnt grease, but it reminded him of a place near his old house his family and he would go to once a week when he was a kid. 

He sat down on a mysteriously sticky booth, flicking through a menu to pass the time. He'd learned from experience the only thing that didn't give him a stomach ache were the hash browns and coffee, at 11:30 PM. It was weird, he'd admit. But they probably just changed staff.

A couple booths down a man was looking intently at his laptop screen, seeming to barely register the mountain of hash browns he was eating. He looked strangely out of place; black hoodie too dark, dark hair that seemed to move in an imaginary wind, skin glowing ethereally.

The man glanced up.

Phil quickly looked away and to the waitress standing in front him. How long had she been standing there, watching him watch the pretty brown haired man? Phil's face flushed. 

"Uh, hash browns and coffee, please," he said faintly. He could've sworn the man was looking in his direction now.

The waitress popped her gum. "I can give him something from you, if you like?" She had a knowing look about her. 

"No, thank you," Phil said as politely as he could. Please, dear god no. He'd embarrassed himself enough looking at pretty boy, buying him something would be the end of Phil.

Phil hid behind his menu after she left, peaking over the top of it. But pretty boy's eyes stayed firmly fixed to his screen, hair no longer moving and skin looking as normal as anyone's, even as he gulped down more coffee than should've been in the cup. Phil really needed to sleep.

He ate, paid, and left, disappointed and relived in equal measure.

-

After that Phil started making excuses to himself. Anything that made going back to that horrible, crappy, toilet trip inducing diner sound reasonable. If he ever spoke to pretty boy Phil would have a lot of complaining to do.

"Mum?" Phil answered his phone, pushing open the door of the diner one Saturday morning, a few days after the initial incident. He adjusted his phone against his ear, taking a seat.

"Child," she greeted, voice warm. "How are you? I know you've been awfully busy with that documentary, you hardly call anymore."

Phil sighed. "I'm sorry, mum." He was sorry. In truth he missed his family, a lot. He ached to see them. 

Phil had never put much store in age, or numbers. He might've learned to read when he was six, but that didn't mean everyone else had to. Unfortunately, the world seemed to have collectively decided without his consent that the big three zero meant you needed to settle down, have a few kids, buy the house and dog. 

Phil hadn't even had a girlfriend or boyfriend since he was twenty-four. He made excuses, said he was too busy with work. 

But he just hadn't met someone he liked enough, yet.

So he'd started avoiding the usual questions he'd gotten tired of years ago, visiting home less and less often. It wasn't anyone's fault, either. He didn't blame them. They wanted him to be happy, and he was. Right?

"Phil," his mum started, in that voice she got when trying to convince him to do something. "Your dad's new colleague in the office has a nice son, who's stopped by a few times to fix the sink." He should have been grateful his mum is trying to set him up with another man, and not a woman. A lot of people didn't have that. Instead he just felt tired. 

"Yeah?" He fiddled with the edge of the menu, wondering how to say no without being rude. He'd never want to hurt her feelings. 

"I just worry about you, in that big city, all alone."

"Mum-"

"And if you don't want to meet him, that's perfectly fine. I just want you to be happy."

"I am." Was he?

He heard the waiter approach. "I'm about to order," he said, feeling awful. "I'll call you later, I promise. And I'll see when I can visit." 

"Oh." He could hear her sigh, crackly and disappointed. "Don't work all day," she reminded him, gentle and kind and worried. 

"Love you, mum." Phil ended the call, looking up at the waiter. "Sorr-" he froze. It was pretty boy. "Erm, sorry you had to wait."

Pretty boy was wearing another black hoodie and a stained green apron. "Well, I can't exactly leave when I'm being paid." Phil was taken aback until he saw the small, amused smile. 

"I'm sorry anyway." He didn't want to order, to make the man leave. "You work here?" Phil belatedly realized how weird that sounded. Obviously he worked here!

He didn't seem to mind. Or maybe he'd learned to ride his reaction to annoying customers. "Yeah, the night shift." he said. Well, that explained why he seemed so tired, and why Phil had only seen him here at night. "I get here early for the wifi."

Phil tried to come up with something else to say. The man raised his eyebrows, looking to the menu. 

"Sorry!" Phil's face flushed. "Hash browns and coffee, please. Thank you." 

The man wrote his order down and left with another smile, leaving Phil to his hyperventilation. 

The man came back a few minutes later, apron-less and wearing ripped trousers that Phil didn't need today. He set Phil's food down and sat across from him, opening up his backpack. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, already taking out his laptop. 

"Uh, sure." Phil slowly dug into his hash browns, chewing suspiciously. They tasted different. Like gourmet butter and careful seasoning. Phil narrowed his eyes. 

Okay, maybe he was over reacting a little bit. But it was strange! 

"I'm Dan," pretty boy said, making Phil nearly spill a forkful of hash brown everywhere. 

"Phil," Phil said, watching Dan with renewed interest. 

"You aren't here this early, normally," Dan said.

That meant Dan had seen him before. Had noticed him before.

"What!" Dan screeched a minute later, knocking Phil out of his thoughts. Dan looked distressed.

Phil's fork clattered onto the plate. "What's wrong?" He asked anxiously.

"Facebook comments," Dan seethed, typing rapidly. 

Though he didn't know it then, in the future, for many years, if anyone asked Phil to describe Dan, he would tell them of Dan's never-ending hatred for the Facebook comment section. 

-

For the next two weeks they fell into a sort of routine. Phil would stop at the diner for breakfast just as Dan's shift was ending and end up talking to him for over an hour, or listen to Dan rant, or help him compose long and articulate answers to Facebook trolls that left them scrambling for cover.

Somehow he didn't learn anything important about Dan. 

He knew Dan lived not too far away, though he didn't know exactly how far. He didn't know if Dan did anything else besides work every night shift at a crappy diner. He didn't know if Dan was going to university or had already graduated. Phil didn't know his age or his last name or anything.

But he did know Dan didn't have wifi wherever he lived. That wifi was humanity's best invention. That Tumblr was its second best and gender its worst. That Dan loved cereal just as much as he did and had a collection of succulents. 

He also spoke fluent Greek, which was more surprising but just as interesting as the fact he liked hot chocolate more than coffee. 

In other words, Phil was in trouble. 

-

"Nooo, Phil!" Dan whined, wiping at his chocolate mustache. "Instant coffee is hell spawn." 

"Then go spend a hundred pounds on a coffee machine for me!" 

This was the first time they'd been anywhere together except the diner. Phil was hesitant to call it a date. Dan had called, demanding hot chocolate and mince pies and dragged him outside into the freezing December air. It was early in the month yet, but this winter seemed hellbent on freezing London.

Somehow Dan didn't seem to mind the cold, wrapped in a soft-looking jacket, hood pulled up over his curls, his cheeks pink and a little rosey spot on his jaw. He looked warm and tempting. Phil's knees weren't going to survive this. 

"Want some?" Dan asked, offering the hot chocolate. Someone bumped into Phil, pushing him closer to Dan. 

Phil couldn't think how to respond without sounding rude. He took it, trying to ignore the fact Dan's mouth had been on it all night. He tipped his head back, but it was empty. He threw the plastic cup at Dan, who cackled like mad and dove out of the way, somehow ending up pressed against Phil's side.

Phil watched the long line of his throat as he swallowed, looking at Phil with dark chocolate eyes. Phil reached out and gripped his hand tightly. "Is this okay?" He asked nervously.

Dan nodded slowly, quiet for once. Dan was always so loud and extravagant and bright. But now all of his attention was on Phil. 

Phil slowly leaned forward, waiting for Dan to push him away, to leave. But he didn't. Instead he gripped Phil's collar, giving him a long look. "Isn't this sappy?" He asked quietly, breathlessly. "Kissing in the middle of a crowded square? Like a movie?"

"Did I say I was against being sappy?" Phil's heart was going thump thump thump in his chest. He barely noticed the people moving around them, or the Christmas music that began to play. 

"No, I suppose not." 

Dan leaned closer, eyes slipping shut. Phil watched him for a moment. His charcoal lashes, that little rosey spot, his breath in the air. 

Dan's mouth was soft and wet, fitting under Phil's perfectly. He felt Dan sigh against him, a full body thing that pressed them together and made his stomach drop. 

They pulled apart slowly, Dan watching him intently. "Was that okay?" He looked nervous. Dan was rarely nervous. He always seemed to know exactly how things were. 

Phil kissed his cheek, pulling him into a tight hug. Maybe he'd been wrong about Dan, all along. Maybe Dan was just as lost as he was. 

-

After that, things seemed to change.

Phil could add the way Dan looked sleeping on his couch to his ever growing Dan list, which was not as creepy as it sounded. Among other things he learned Dan's last name was Howell and he was twenty-six, but he always sounded uncertain about both. 

And Dan was always gone at night, to the diner but someplace else, too, Phil thought. He would come back exhausted and collapse on Phil, demanding dinner and cuddles and on one memorable occasion a massage. 

("I'm the master of erotic massages," Dan had said, legs spread over Phil's lap and eyes closed, as though that was a common thing to say. For Dan it kind of was.

"Okay?" Phil had said, not wanting to know where this was going. 

"Meaning," Dan had said slowly, grumpy at Phil for not immediately understanding, "you won't be as good as me but would you please give me a massage before my back snaps off?")

Phil had never felt closer to someone, or more confused by them. 

-

"I've never done this before," Dan said sleepily, breathing gently against Phil's neck. They were pressed together on the couch, watching crappy Hallmark Christmas movies and drinking sugary hot chocolate. 

"Watched Christmas movies?" Phil asked, frowning. "Why not?"

Dan shrugged. "We never celebrated when I was younger. It just wasn't a thing, back then." Dan had this way of making himself sound so old, like he was tired of the world. It worried Phil, sometimes. 

"Do you like it?" Phil was still nervous that this careful, fragile thing between them would break. He liked Dan too much at times, he thought.

Dan considered the telly, watched the actors bake unrealistic cookies. "I think so." 

Phil wrapped an arm around Dan's waist. "Good."

"Would you kick me out if I had said no?" Dan asked, trying for an annoyed face, lips twitching against his will. 

"Mmm. I think I'd have to. It's a tradition in the Lester household, after all." 

"Are you going there for Christmas?" Dan asked curiously. "It's in two weeks, you know." 

"My family wants me to visit," Phil said, sobering. 

Dan shifted, putting his head up and giving Phil one of his signature long looks. "And do you want to?" He said it so simply. Like it was just a yes or no question. 

"I-yes. But I don't want to disappoint them."

Dan hooked a finger under Phil's chin, forcing him to look up. "Maybe you're more afraid of disappointing yourself," he said seriously. "What could they be disappointed about?"

Phil smiled at the sincerity in his voice. "Because I don't have anyone, and I'm thirty years old." He winced, realizing what he'd said too late. They'd never had The Talk because Phil didn't know how to mention it. "I mean, I have you. But everyone expects me to settle down now. I hate it."

Instead of looking angry or disappointed, Dan rolled his eyes. "Did you think this was a fling for me? I've been coming here everyday for weeks now." 

"Yeah, but-"

Dan shushed him with a quick kiss. "You're wrong, Phil. You've got me for as long as you want. Okay?" 

Phil nodded, speechless. Dan pressed another kiss to his mouth, sweet and reassuring and Dan. 

"I'd be proud of you if you were my son," Dan said, pulling away. 

"Dan!"

"What?" He asked innocently, mouth kiss-wet and inviting. So Phil kissed him again. Just because he could. 

 

-

Phil left on a train a day later, bound for home.

'rawtenstall sounds like a rotten stall'

'Fuck off'

';)'

-

"Phil!" 

Phil's mother was formidable in her love for everyone. No one crossed Kathryn Lester without severe bone-crushing hugs and too many cookies.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited," Phil said into her shoulder. He had to bend down a good few inches to reach her. 

"You're here now, that's what matters," she said, stepping back and pushing him inside. "Come on, you're letting out all the heat." 

Inside it smelled like baking cookies and vanilla candles and burning wood.

"Your dad's gone out for more flour," she explained, "and Martyn and Cornelia should arrive this afternoon." 

Kathryn nudged him into the kitchen, dropping his bags by the stairs. "Drink?" She handed him a glass and a gooey chocolate cookie on napkin.

"Thanks, mum."

Kathryn sat across from him, watching him intently. It reminded him of Dan, and he flushed. "Mum. I, uh, met someone." He realized this was the first time he'd told anyone about Dan. It made it feel official, somehow. "His name is Dan." 

Kathryn smiled widely. "That's wonderful! 

Phil bit into the cookie. "I've only known him a couple months, but I really like him."

"I'm so happy for you, Phil. I've always worried about you."

"Mum-"

"I always worry about you taking care of yourself," she continued, holding up a finger. "I'm glad for you, honey. And it only took thirty years!" She laughed.

Phil scoffed. "You were trying to find me someone when I was in nappies?!"

"Of course. And it only took thirty years. I'd say it was a success!" 

-

That night, after eating dinner and dessert and playing well used board games, and answering what felt like a million questions about Dan, he called him. 

It went to voice mail and he sighed, flopping on his blankets. He was a grown man. He would not be disappointed that Dan was busy, doing something else that didn't involve him.

Ding! 

Phil scrambled for his phone. In later years he would never admit it. 

'sorry i was in a family meeting can i call you back?' 

Instead of answering Phil called him.

"Hey," Dan answered, voice quiet and tired. Much different from just a day ago.

Phil wondered what kind of family meeting this had been. Dan hadn't really said whether he was visiting his family or not. Just that it was complicated.

"Are you okay?" Phil asked, leaning back on his pillow.

"Yeah, just tired. My mums a handful. Hey, uh, Phil?"

"Hmm?" 

"Could I stay at your flat?"

Phil frowned. "Why? I mean, you can, of course you can. There's a key under the door mat. But why?"

He heard Dan chuckle. "Of course there is. You're as unoriginal as a cactus." 

"Dan." 

Dan huffed. "Phil."

"Dan."

"Because I'm tired and I miss you and I forgot to renew the hotel room I'm staying in." Dan had never sounded more, well, human.

"Why...why are you living in a hotel?" 

Dan sighed. "Because London is fucking expensive and living in a hotel by the week is actually cheaper than a flat. And because I recently moved out, I guess you'd say." 

Phil swallowed. He felt shaky and raw. "When are you gonna start talking to me, Dan?" 

"Phil?"

"I mean, you never talk to me about anything that matters."

"I-I will. I'm working on it. That's part of why I had my family meeting, I suppose." Phil didn't answer. "Phil, I'm serious. I'm trying, I promise." 

"Okay. I believe you." Phil closed his eyes. "I think I'll get some sleep now."

"Okay, g'night, Phil. Text me tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure."

-

Phil couldn't bring himself to call the next day. He'd thought Dan was starting to talk to him. Apparently he'd been wrong.

Phil made his way downstairs, unsent texts and made up conversations going through his mind.

Only Kathryn was awake, a kettle on the stove and two empty teacups on the table. He flopped down, absently chewing on a cookie she passed him.

"Are you ready to talk?" She asked, not unkindly. "I know something happened last night. You'd never mope all through monopoly and let Martyn win every game without good reason. Is it about Dan?" 

Phil would always be amazed by his mum's ability to just know.

He nodded, resting his chin on his hand. "He's been living in a hotel, mum. Said it was cheaper than renting a flat."

Kathryn hummed. "How did you find out?" 

"Last night, after dinner, he asked if he could stay at my flat because he forgot to renew the hotel room or something like that." Phil ate another bite of cookie, trying to gather his thoughts. "I had no idea! I feel like I know him but I don't. Not the important things. I don't even know what he's doing with his life."

Kathryn considered, chewing a cookie. The kettle whistled, and she poured the hot water into a tea pot, putting a few of Phil'a favorite tea bags inside. 

"I think, honey," she said, pouring him a cup, "that Dan is a very troubled boy." She gave him a warning look when he tried to protest. "You've always been this way, thinking people are more prepared for the world than you." 

"But he always seems so-confidant and sure of himself." 

Kathryn blew on her tea. "There's more to people than meets the eye, child. Just talk to him." 

Phil stared at his teacup. Maybe she had a point. 

"I'll talk to him after Christmas. In person. If you don't mind me leaving so soon?" He looked up guiltily. 

"If you think that's best. But at least text the poor boy, or whatever it is you kids do." 

-

Hey Dan. I need to think for a while. But please stay at the flat. 

-

Phil left the day after Christmas, full of warmth and hugs and plenty of teasing from Martyn. And he was anxious.

He and Dan had texted a little bit, here and there. Mostly Dan, timidly asking if he could clean or buy new groceries. Phil didn't want him to starve or sit in dust. He wanted Dan to be safe. The revelation had surprised him, not because he wasn't expecting it, but because it took him so long to realize. Of course he wanted his strange, mysterious Dan to be safe. 

'Almost home. Are you there?' 

'yes'

Phil frowned down at his phone. Dan normally sent more than one word. Was he getting tired of Phil at last? Phil rubbed at his face. He needed to stop thinking that way. 

A few minutes later Phil was unlocking his door, expecting Dan to be on the other side. But the flat was dead silent, curtains closed and lights off. Only the telly was on, playing a rerun of some soap opera. "Dan?" Phil whispered, setting his bags by the door and moving further inside, looking around.

"Phiw?" A muffled voice asked, deep and scratchy.

Phil walked around the sofa, concerned. A Dan-lump was laying on it, wrapped in blankets, only one foot sticking out. Phil pulled the blanket over it, sitting on the edge of a cushion. "Are you sick?" He asked, trying to stop a smile from forming. 

Dan glared at him. "I'm dying." He coughed, pulling the blanket over his face.

Phil pulled it back down, pressing a hand to Dan's forehead. He did look sick. Dark rimmed eyes and red nose, cheeks unusually pale, forehead hot and clammy.

"Did you take anything?" Phil asked, trying to remember if he had anything in the house.

Dan nodded sluggishly. "I'm-" he coughed, "I'm hell personified."

"Mmhmm," Phil agreed absently. "I'll make you some tea and toast. Does your stomach hurt?" 

Dan shook his head. "Jus' my throat." 

Phil nodded, standing and walking to the kitchen. He put the kettle on and slid a couple pieces of toast into the toaster. He'd worry about Dan's cold for now and talk later.

"Butter?" He called. There was an enthusiastic grunt, which Phil took as a yes. He spread butter on the toast and poured tea into a mug, putting everything onto a makeshift cookie sheet tray.

"Here," he said, helping Dan sit up against a few cushions and setting the tray on his lap. 

"I'd kiss you if I wasn't infected with the plague," Dan said, reaching up for a small hug. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Phil gently squeezed his shoulders and sat next to him, putting Dan's feet in his lap. "How long've you been sick?"

"'Bout a week," Dan said around a mouthful of toast.

Phil's eyes widened. "A week?"

Dan nodded. "Your sofa isn't the most comfortable. I might need another erotic massage." 

Phil chose to ignore that comment. "Have you felt any better?"

Dan smirked. "Now you're here I could climb a mountain. Or a tree."

Phil rolled his eyes. "Wipe your nose first." 

Dan huffed, blowing his nose noisily. "Just wait until I use my wiles on you," he muttered. 

Phil chose to ignore that too. "Do you always watch soap operas when you're sick?"

Dan gave him an evil look. "Don't mock my pain, philly. Just wait until you're sick!" He tried for an evil laugh, but the effect was ruined somewhat by a cough. 

They sat in silence, Dan eating his toast and occasionally making small noises of amusement at the soap opera. Phil didn't understand the plot, but the characters' melodramatic reactions to everything were funny enough. 

A few minutes later Dan set the empty tray on the coffee table and sat up a bit straighter, turning to look at Phil. "I'm ready to talk if you are."

Phil hesitated. He hadn't expected this so soon, hadn't been able to plan what he wanted to say. "We can talk later, if you want. You look tired."

Dan rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, you spoon. A little plague never hurt anyone.

Phil picked at his trousers. "I don't really know what to say," he admitted.

Dan didn't say anything. Phil glanced up. Dan was looking determinedly at his hands, picking at a scab on his knuckle. "I'm not sure what you want, Phil. You have to tell me." He licked his chapped licks. 

"I just want the truth! About you, about who you are!" Phil burst out. "You never seem sure about anything. I don't know who your family is or what you do besides work at some diner and sleep on my sofa. I don't know anything."

Dan's shoulders slumped. "You won't believe me." His voice was small. 

"What are you, a drug dealer?" 

Dan closed his eyes. "Not exactly that, no." 

"Then what?" Phil watched him suspiciously. "An escaped convict?" 

Dan laughed humorlessly. "I wish." He fidgeted with his hair, still not looking at Phil. "I had to get permission to tell you. That was the family meeting, I guess." He looked around the room. "Could you get me a houseplant?"

"Why, Dan."

"Please?" Dan looked up at him. He looked so anguished. "I want to get this over with." 

So Phil stood up, brought him a small fern and sat down again, keeping distance between them this time. Dan pushed the blanket off himself and crossed his legs, setting the plant in front of him. 

Dan pressed his lips together, putting one hand on the side of the pot, the other gently pinching the bottom of the plant where it met the dirt. He closed his eyes. 

Dan's hair started to move, first. Phil was reminded of that first time he saw Dan, when he'd been overly tired and thought it was only his imagination. It moved like it was in an invisible wind, lifting off his forehead in slow motion. Then his whole body started glowing, like moonlight was being projected off his skin. 

Phil couldn't move a muscle, eyes wide and unblinking. His mouth was open, speechless. 

Silver leaves grew from the fern, thin as a piece of paper, intricate and delicate, reminding Phil of a snowflake. Dan slowly removed his hands, the silver falling from the plant and disintegrating, leaving behind new green leaves. Dan's skin faded, hair falling back into place. He looked up cautiously, nose still red and dripping.

Phil let out a breath. For some reason, that red nose reminded him this was still Dan. Dan had been this, whatever it was, all along. 

"Well." Phil said at last. "Does this mean you can stop me killing all my plants?"

Dan let out a surprised laugh. "That's all you have to say?" 

"No, I have so many questions. What even are you?" 

"Uh, a god. A very weak one."

Phil almost had a heart attack. "A god?!" He squeaked. "A god?! What god?!" 

Dan ducked his head. "Persephone."

"But...you're not a woman?" Phil asked, confused. This was too much.

Dan scoffed. "I thought you were more open minded than that. I'm a fucking god. I could be a duck if I wanted." He frowned at Phil's shocked face. "What? The fact I used to be a woman is more shocking than me being a god? 

"No," Phil said faintly. 

Dan narrowed his eyes. "I thought mortals were finally starting to figure out that shit isn't important." He tilted his head, looking Phil up and down. "You were born in 1887, right? Are you too old for those ideals?" 

Phil choked on air. "1987! 19! And no, I'm bisexual. How can you tell when people were born, anyway? Did you know I was bisexual already?"

Dan rolled his eyes. "You can't tell someone's sexuality by the way they look, Phil."

"Oh." Phil looked at him thoughtfully. But then... "are you saying I look a hundred years old?!" 

Dan snickered. 

"Wait, why were you so afraid of telling me?" 

Dan gave him a disbelieving look. "I thought you'd run away screaming. You wouldn't be the first one." 

Phil wondered how many people had left Dan. "I'd never leave you, even if you told me you were the god of bathrooms." 

"Wow, thank you so much." Dan coughed into his sleeve.

That made another thought occur to Phil. "How can you get sick?"

"Uh...well, the lesser gods, like me, have been hanging on by a thread for centuries. But when I decided to leave Hades-"

"Wait. Your...ex-husband?"

Dan spluttered. "No. Those stupid mortals, always getting things wrong. I agreed to work for him to escape my mum, Demeter. That's all." Phil nodded like that made perfect sense. "I've been getting weaker and weaker. Finally I decided to fuck it and leave. I knew I had less than a year, but I wanted to see more of the world."

Phil pressed his lips together. "You're...dying? That's why you're sick?" 

"Not exactly." Dan gave him a small smile, cheeks tinged pink. Why was he blushing? "I-I would have died months ago if I hadn't met you." He seemed hesitant to continue. 

Phil scooted across the sofa, sitting next to him. "You can tell me. Nothing can be more shocking than finding out my boyfriend is a god." Phil smiled reassuringly, squeezing his hand. 

Dan cleared his throat, fidgeted. "You're literally keeping me alive," he said finally. Phil stared at him, mouth opening. What did that mean?

"Your belief, or love, whatever you want to call it. It's just enough to give me a normal, mortal life. Just with a few planty bonuses." He gave Phil a long look. "Phil, don't feel like you have to stay with me because of it, alright? I could just as easily become a porn star or something."

Phil doubted that. Dan refused to meet his gaze, instead picking at that scab again. "Good thing you're stuck with me, then." Dan looked up hopefully. "I need someone to keep my plants alive, remember?"

Dan pulled him into a tight hug, laughing into his neck. "I think you'll find a way to kill them anyway, you idiot. 

Phil slapped at his arm. "Shut up."

"Abuse of the ill and dying!" Dan poked at Phil's side. "I'll report you."

"No you won't, because you haven't looked sick for a good minute now."

He felt Dan still in his arms. "Oh." Then, "that was you, Philly. Not me."

"Oh."

Phil didn't quite understand all of this, but he understood this. Just being with Dan. 

-

All in all, there weren't a lot of added benefits to having a god-boyfriend. He could save all of their plants, somehow command the dust not to gather on their shelves. Sometimes the dishes even cleaned themselves, which was always strange to see.

But Dan wasn't very powerful, relying on Phil's love for it. At first Phil had worried this would be too much of a power imbalance, literally, but it proved not to matter so much. 

The only time anything truly strange happened was a few weeks later, when Phil came home to a duck sitting on their sofa, watching game of thrones. 

"Dan? Phil asked, approaching the duck warily. 

If possible the duck glared at him. "You loved me too much last night, you fucking spoon!" 

Another time, Dan had run into the living room, looking distressed. "Phil, Phil, Phil, look what they've done!" He pushed his phone into Phil's hands.

It was open on a Wikipedia article: 

'Persephone was married to Hades, the god-king of the underworld. The myth of her abduction represents her function as the personification of vegetation.' 

Phil fell off the sofa from laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

"Philly!" 

Phil looked up from his computer, distracted. "Yeah?" He was trying to edit a video, but it just wasn't working. "I'm almost done." 

"I could duplicate you," Dan said conversationally, settling on the edge of the desk and looking down at Phil with a soft expression. Phil knew it was entirely on purpose. "Then one of you could spend time with me and the other could wooork."

"Not anymore, you can't," Phil reminded, ignoring Dan's bullshit heart eyes. "The only thing you can do is turn into a duck, and that's because of me." Phil smirked, looping his fingers through Dan's belt loops and pulling him down, onto Phil's lap. "I have all the power."

Dan's face went red. "Stop!" He scolded halfheartedly, batting at Phil's chest. 

"Abuse!" 

"Abuse of the old, more like." Dan leaned against Phil, possibly breaking a few ribs. Phil's hands settled around his waist, poking at him. His shoulders felt awfully tense.

"What have you been eating?" Phil asked, trying to gauge his mood. "I'm afraid there's a small whale sitting on me."

Dan scoffed, cheeks still faintly red. "I never knew you were so bony in these places." He wasn't unhappy then. Tired?

They lapsed into silence, watching the screen as it played back what he'd edited.

Dan sighed softly, slouching down and resting his face against Phil's, half his body falling off the chair awkwardly. It didn't look at all comfortable. "Will you be done soon?" Dan asked, looking at Phil with a sleepy expression. 

"Yeah, just another minute, I promise."

Dan shifted, twisting his neck awkwardly.

"You're going to gent a knot and make me massage you. Again," Phil complained, not completely minding. 

He practically felt Dan roll his eyes. "Eat more ice cream, then." He didn't sound very amused.

"Didn't know you were into that."

"You don't know a lot of things," Dan mumbled, yawning.

Phil knew it wasn't meant to hurt, but he couldn't help feeling a small sting. He didn't know a lot, as much as Dan tried to help. He'd given Phil a huge book on Greek mythology for his birthday, and Phil had been overjoyed, until he saw all the post it notes stuck to the pages explaining what was wrong.

Dan squirmed. "Your bony knees are hurting my butt."

"Sit somewhere else then," Phil said, saving his file and closing the editing program. He rubbed at Dan's shoulders, tilting his head to see Dan's face.

Dan melted against him. "Fuck," he moaned, enjoying it far too much.

"Dan," Phil giggled, "the neighbors."

"What, you want to have sex with the neighbors? I'm right here," Dan smirked devilishly, the effect ruined somewhat by a yawn.

"I noticed," Phil said. He knew he probably looked like an idiot, face soft and sappy as he looked at Dan. Sometimes the giant idiot was hard to resist, though.

"It's almost two in the morning, you know," Dan said, turning sideways so his legs went over the arm of the chair and he could use Phil's shoulder as a pillow. 

"What?!" Phil looked at the time on the computer, seeing it was indeed that late.

He looked at the tired circles around Dan's eyes, feeling a wave of guilt. His boyfriend never seemed to have a good sleep schedule, no matter what they tried. Phil thought he was still adjusting to mortality, even though it had been quite a while now. 

"Did you sleep last night?" Phil asked, already expecting the answer.

"No," Dan smiled sheepishly, putting an arm around Phil's neck. "Carry me?"

"You know how that would end. Come on," he pushed at Dan, nudging him off the chair. 

Dan climbed off gracelessly, hopping several times as he tripped over a cord. Phil turned the lights off after Dan, mindful of the way he'd shriek and run away, purely for the sake of being dramatic. They passed through the lounge, Dan's eyes dropping further with every step.

"We were s'posed to have dinner, you know," Dan said, stopping in front of the fridge and looking at it longingly. He bit his lip, looking at Phil like he wanted to say more.

Phil felt like an ass. "I'm sorry," he said, putting his arms around Dan from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder.

He felt Dan shrug. "We need money, right?"

"That's not how it works," Phil closed his eyes. "Dan, I'm not paid by the hour. I'm just being an idiot who isn't used to living with someone else."

Dan turned around in his arms, watching him intently. "Phil," he said, voice deep and tired and heart-achingly fond. His hair was curly and wild, pushed off his forehead. "It's all right. I'll drag you out next time." 

Phil nodded slowly, still feeling like the worst boyfriend that had ever existed. He turned toward the bedroom but Dan pulled him down by the front of his shirt and gave him a firm kiss. Phil let out a breath, unconsciously leaning toward him.

Dan broke the kiss after a long moment, pushing Phil toward the bedroom. "I'll bring food, go change," he said, breaking the tense air. Phil nodded again, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

He changed into a fresh pair of underwear and climbed under the covers, rubbing his tired eyes. He turned on the blue lights Dan had bought. They were surprisingly nice, changing the grey sheets and walls to a calming navy. 

Dan walked in a minute later, balancing two glasses and a bowl of spaghetti.

"We're sharing?" Phil asked with a raised eyebrow. Dan's brand of romance was more subtle, normally.

Dan rolled his eyes, holding a glass above Phil's head threateningly. "No, you dingus, I'm just not taking two trips." He tossed a fork at Phil, setting the dishes on the side table and taking his jeans off in the least sexy way possible.

Phil snickered. 

"Shut up!" 

But Phil was silenced when a mostly naked Dan pressed against his side, warm and sleepy, resting his head on Phil's shoulder. He tilted up, not quite making it and instead giving Phil's chin a wet kiss. 

"Dan!" Phil poked at his ribs in revenge, laughing when Dan choked on his water.

Dan retaliated by pressing freezing cold toes against Phil's ankle. "Take that!" 

Phil squirmed, nearly spilling the pasta. 

"You'll get tomato sauce on our perfect white sheets," Dan whined, hiding a smile with the edge of the blanket.

"They're grey," Phil pointed out. 

"Well that sounds less dramatic, doesn't it?" Dan set the bowl between them. "Come on, eat already." His eyes were drooping again, momentary burst of energy gone.

"Wakey wakey," Phil said, poking Dan's cheek, making Dan smile, dimple appearing. "Derek isn't ready to sleep yet." 

Dan snorted, giggling around a mouthful of pasta. It really, really shouldn't have been so attractive. "God," he said after he swallowed, "we're eating in our pants, in bed, in the middle of the night."

"Domestic bliss, as they say." Phil clinked their glasses together, leaning over for another kiss.

"Trying to steal my virtue?" Dan's voice was unimpressed.

"Maybe..." Phil kissed the underside of his jaw, avoiding a bit of sauce on his lip.

"Bit late for that, mate."

"Dan! Stop calling me mate!" Phil leaned away, huffing.

"Why? Are you into that?" Dan's lips twitched. "Anyway, there's no way in hell you're getting in my pants right now. I need to sleep!" 

Phil sighed. "Fine." He set the empty dishes on the side table, turning the light off. 

Dan scooted down the bed, covering himself with the blankets, just eyes and a mop of hair looking up at Phil in the dim light. "Cuddle me, slave." 

Phil wiped at Dan's saucy mouth. "We didn't brush our teeth," he sighed, feeling Dan push under his chin and an arm go around his waist, the other tucked between them.

"Oh well," Dan whispered, breath warm and comforting against Phil's collarbone. A second later, "Phil, I said cuddle me." 

Phil pulled Dan closer, hand against his lower back. "Sorry, love."

Dan smiled. "I like that."

"Mmm?" Phil was already falling asleep.

"Nothing. G'night, shithead." Dan waited for Phil's indignation, but he was already asleep. 

"I love you." Dan pressed a sweet kiss to Phil's neck, eyes slipping shut. "So much."

-

(a few days later)

Phil watched Dan walk into the kitchen blearily, rubbing at his eyes. He was wearing a long jumper and pants, one of the purple knee high socks Phil had bought him falling down. He looked incredible pissed.

"Dan?" Phil asked, trying not to laugh, watching Dan blindly reach for his coffee. He pulled it out of reach. "Make your own. Or I'll make you one." He wasn't completely heartless.

Dan stared at him with half closed eyes. It was a bit worrying. "I know for a fact, Philip, you used the last of the good creamer," he was trying for angry school teacher but it didn't quite work. The black and blue shadows under his eyes did work, though.

"I bought more yesterday," Phil said, standing and finding Dan a clean mug. "And maybe, accidentally, the less than good coffee."

Dan groaned, collapsing on the table. "You are the bane of my existence."

"If you say so," Phil stirred in the instant coffee and creamer, setting it in front of Dan. "What time did you go to bed?" He sat back down, pushing the leftover burnt edges of his toast toward Dan. 

Dan dipped a piece into his coffee, moaning loudly as he ate.

Dan was a strange creature.

"I don't know," he said, in his "I do know but I won't tell you" voice. Phil didn't press it, watched Dan chug coffee and rub under his eyes, looking slightly more awake now.

Lately, Dan had been getting bored. He wanted to do something, said he wasn't getting any younger. Phil encouraged him at first, thinking it was a good idea. It still was, in theory. But Dan was now spending every night researching what he could possible do with his life. And with that came the belated realization that he wasn't immortal anymore. 

"I think I know what I want, maybe," Dan said suddenly, startling Phil. "But we'd have to have sex a lot." 

Phil choked. "Excuse me?"

Dan laughed. "Wanted to make sure you were paying attention." Phil huffed. "Honestly, Phil, I have no idea. Before I could spend ten years studying for a PhD in astrophysics or something. But now..." he trailed off, pulling his lip into his mouth. "I don't want you to work for both of us. I want something to do."

Phil pushed at his ankle. "Maybe you don't need something full time. I know you'd get bored. Write a book, start a YouTube channel and leave me in the dust when you become famous."

Dan smiled, pushing back at Phil's foot. "Yeah. Technically I am famous, though." He chewed on a piece of toast thoughtfully. "You know, I've lived here for three months now." Phil hummed in agreement. "And..." he raised his eyebrows pointedly. Phil stared at him. Dan rolled his eyes. "In about a week we'll have been together six months."

Oh. Phil hadn't realized how much time had gone by. It felt like Dan had always been here, always would be. Phil liked that thought.

"What should we do?" he asked, pouring a bowl of cereal. Dan would forget to eat, sometimes. Another problem of being suddenly mortal. 

Dan shrugged. "We aren't that sappy, are we?" He smiled gratefully as Phil set the bowl in front of him. "Sofa crease and a movie? Pizza?"

"You know I'm your sofa crease, don't even pretend."

Dan winked. "My Phil crease." 

"That sounds wrong. Very wrong." 

Dan giggled into his cereal.

-

They showered and dressed, leaving the house reluctantly. They were out of cleaning supplies and the like, things you couldn't have delivered to your house, unfortunately. 

Dan pushed at his hair absently, reading the back of something. "If you don't wear gloves your skin will peel off," he read excitedly. "We should buy it." 

Phil took it, setting it back on the shelf. "No, I don't want to take you to A&E for that." He ignored Dan's pout, setting a package of sponges in the cart. "You won't magically regrow skin anymore, remember?"

Dan made a face. "I didn't regrow my skin. That sounds freaking horrible."

Phil glanced around, but they were luckily alone in the aisle. "What did you do, then?" He found a bottle of window cleaner and dish soap, nudging Dan along.

"I couldn't be injured, unless it was another god or titan or something," Dan let himself be pushed along, until something else caught his eye. 

"You're going to die-no don't buy that!" 

Dan sighed, walking away from the very expensive hoover. 

Of course, because Phil just couldn't help himself, they ended up buying a package of ready made cookie dough and a bag of chocolate chips. 

"You're supposed to stop me," Phil complained as Dan scanned the items. "You're an enabler."

"It's in the motherfucking bagging area," Dan hissed, pointedly dropping the sponges into a bag. 

Phil winced as a mum glared at them. "People are staring!"

"Right," Dan agreed, not even looking. He swiped his card, picking up their bags and leading the way to the doors.

Phil rolled his eyes, following. He held the door open for Dan, less because he was a gentleman and more because Dan held the precious cookie dough. 

Dan seemed to know his reasons too. He gave Phil an unimpressed look, hip checking him and giggling when Phil nearly fell on his butt. 

"Cruelty," Phil complained, sticking his lip out, "unusual punishment." 

"Oh shut up and take one of these," Dan shoved a bag at him. "C'mon, let's go home. I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry," Phil retorted, catching the bag. It was heavy, to be fair. 

They walked down the street, back to the flat. Dan nudged him, pointing to a familiar diner. A for sale sign was stuck to the door. Phil felt strangely sad. They'd stopped going there months ago, after Dan got actual, very, very bad food poisoning, but it was a large part of their early days, back when Dan was just a mysterious stranger.

Phil bumped Dan, a silent acknowledgement. Dan had his thinking face on, lip pulled into his mouth. 

"I could buy it, technically," Dan said, watching the diner until they turned a corner.

"You don't know anything about cooking, do you?" Phil liked the idea, but he didn't want to be sued for killing someone.

"I kind of do. Or I could hire someone."

"Research it at home?" Phil suggested, watching the way Dan smiled.

"Yeah. I need to research this." He moved to cross the street, stopped to give Phil a sheepish expression and looked both ways before continuing. 

Phil sighed. "I don't know how you stayed alive even when you couldn't die." He followed, gripping Dan's sleeve just in case he decided to chase a pigeon or something. 

"That doesn't actually make sense, Philly." 

"Your mum doesn't make sense." Too late, Phil realized what he'd said. 

Dan didn't say anything for a moment, opening the door to their block of flats. Demeter was a very sensitive subject they rarely opened up. Dan had gone to see her, once, and it hadn't ended well. She didn't like mortals and Dan had never liked her to begin with.

"Be careful, she might strike you down," Dan said, smiling so Phil knew he was forgiven.

"Least I don't have to have a meeting the family dinner," Phil said, just to hear Dan laugh.

"True."

They climber the stairs, Phil unlocking their door and turning the lights on. "Oh no, Sabrina died!" He set the bags down, picking up his chewed looking cactus.

"What the hell ate it?" Dan frowned, looking less concerned for precious Sabrina than Phil would have liked.

"Show some respect," Phil said, poking at Sabrina. One of her leaves fell off. Oops.

Dan rolled his eyes, closing the door. "I'm more worried about a rampaging animal that can eat spikey plants being in our house!" 

Phil had to admit that was a good point. 

He and Dan searched the house, opening cabinets and looking under beds. "Do you think it left?" Phil asked, slightly disappointed. 

Dan shrugged, stopping in the doorway to their bedroom. He narrowed his eyes, staring at the bed. Phil joined him, catching sight of the small lump under their blankets. 

"Is it a cat?" Dan whispered, turning the light on and slowly walking to the bed. "God, please don't have rabies." He lifted the blanket slowly, making a squeaking sound as something shot under the bed. "Phil!" 

"What? I didn't do anything!" Phil pushed Dan toward the bed, staying pressed against the door. "What if it's a demon cat from the underworld?"

"You mean a hellhound?" Dan pushed back at Phil. "Why do I have to look? Do you want my face to be clawed off?"

Phil stared at him. "Hellhounds exist? Is it going to eat us?" He didn't like this one bit. It was probably just an innocent cat, but just in case he'd rather not be scratched to death. "Go on, look." He nudged Dan. 

Dan rolled his eyes. "I want a divorce." 

"We aren't even married, Dan." 

"As far as you know," he said darkly. Dan was stalling. But finally, after bickering back and forth, Dan leaned down and peered under the bed, using the light on his phone. "It's a cat," he said, turning and looking at Phil, "not a bleeding hellhound. A cat." 

The cat chose that moment, apparently offended by Dan's tone, to launch itself at his face. Dan shrieked, pulling it off his face and toward Phil. Phil yelped, diving onto the bed. But the cat was not deterred. It climbed up his leg and onto his back before he could move. 

Phil froze. "Dan?" 

Dan giggled behind his hand. "It's purring." 

Phil let his head fall onto the sheets. "I hate you," he said, muffled.

"What's that?" Dan asked, far too amused.

"I said I hate you!" 

The cat kneaded Phil's shoulders and began to groom the short hairs on the back of his neck. Phil really hadn't expected his day to go this way. 

"Get it off, please?"

Dan hesitated. "It hates me. Try moving?" 

Phil rolled his eyes. His boyfriend was absolutely useless. He sat up slowly, the cat jumping off with a loud complaint. Now that Phil could see it properly he was slightly terrified again. It was completely hairless and wrinkly, except for large grey tufts of hair growing out of it's ears.

"It-she's cute?" Phil said uncertainly. 

"How do you know it's a she?" Dan asked, still refusing to approach the bed. There was a large scratch on his cheek Phil hadn't noticed. 

"Are you okay?" Phil asked, feeling a little bad. 

"I'll need a coffin by the morning," Dan said flatly. "No, Phil, I'll be fine. Go make friends with your demon cat while I make sure I'm not infected with a horrible disease," he waved his hand dismissively and left, but not quickly enough to hide the large smile on his face. 

"Thanks," Phil said grumpily, staring at the cat. She stared back. "Are you a she or a he?" Phil frowned. Probably rude to check. 

"Well, I'm Phil, and you look like you want to eat me but maybe that's not your fault. Genetics can be hard, right?" 

The cat meeped. It was surprisingly cute. "That's right," Phil tentatively reached out and scratched under her chin. Her eyes closed and she started to pur. "I should call you Dan," he said, louder than necessary. 

"Excuse me!" Dan's voice came through the wall.

Phil giggled. "Sabrina II," he decided, "because you ate the first."

He carried Sabrina II into the kitchen, where Dan was making dinner. Dan looked up, not at all surprised to see Phil with the cat. "We can ask around, but I have a feeling it doesn't have a house," he said, smiling at Phil. "I guess we need cat food." 

-

It turned out Sabrina II was actually a male cat. They kept the name, along with a long rant from Dan that Phil ignored most of. 

-

Sabrina II was a cuddly cat, but he also hated Dan. Which was why Dan was sitting on one side of the sofa and Phil and Sabbie were on the other. 

"I've had a week of this injustice," Dan said, glaring at Sabbie. Sabbie glared right back. "He understands us, I know he does. Jesus Christ, Phil, why can't anything be normal."

"Excuse me, bitch. Coming from the god?" 

Phil opened and closed his mouth. "Uh.."

"Yeah?" Dan said, determinedly staring at the tv.

"That wasn't you, right?" 

"No, I don't think so." They both stared at the cat. The cat stared back.

"Well?" Sabrina II asked with a decidedly German accent, delicately licking one paw. 

Phil sighed. "Our child will be blue by the end of this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Sabrina II is a reference to Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Sorry.
> 
> I wasn't planning on continuing this but I got so many more comments than I expected. Thank you all for commenting or leaving a kudos! I wanted to write more soft and less angsty bits in the future and show how happy they are.
> 
> Because I just don't want to let go of this au, if anyone wants me to write another little funny thing let me know! 
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](https://nostalgiclondon.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is like my baby. If you liked it leave a comment or kudos? I might continue it at some point, I dunno. 
> 
> yes dan turned into a duck after they had some particularly good sexy times don't judge me okay
> 
> My [tumblr](https://deathlytireddan.tumblr.com/) (I have no idea if this link actually works. it's deathlytireddan)


End file.
